


How Do You Sleep?

by KanraKixystix



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dubious Consent, Hallucinations, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanraKixystix/pseuds/KanraKixystix
Summary: When Obi-wan Kenobi starts coughing up flower petals before the mission to protect Senator Padme Amidala, he knows there is a serious problem. He has a hunch that Anakin Skywalker is both the cause and the solution, but with how things have been between them lately, he's more likely to succumb to whatever is eating him from the inside before they can work things out.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 26
Kudos: 157





	How Do You Sleep?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I've come bearing a new multi-chapter fic! 
> 
> I've never written Hanahaki Disease before, but I've read quite a bit, and after some discussion in the Obikin Discord, I wanted to give it a shot myself. 
> 
> Set from Attack of the Clones thru Clone Wars. Tags and rating will be updated chapter by chapter.

Obi-wan sank back into the cushions on the plush couch in his living quarters with a content sigh. His hair was slicked back from having just cleaned up, and he noted with mild amusement that Anakin had already started a pot of tea in the kitchen. It wasn’t like him to take the initiative in making tea unless there was something on his mind, in which case, he often busied himself as a means to get out of talking about it. That he could think of, there was nothing extraordinary that was happening, or had happened in the last few days that would set his Padawan learner’s anxiety on edge. 

Closing his eyes, he reached out to Anakin through their shared bond, only to be met with defensive shields that warned him to stay out. Of course, he hadn’t expected any differently. It was rare that Anakin let him in anymore, not since he had hit the ripe age of puberty. He supposed it couldn’t be helped. After all, those sorts of...feelings...were meant to be private. It wouldn’t do well to prod and find things that he himself might not be ready to find out about the boy, no, the man. Anakin was nearly twenty years of age now. 

The years of training together, of teaching him and helping him grow both as a Jedi and a man had gone by quickly. It wouldn’t be long now before the Council saw the strides Anakin had made, and the time would come when he would snip the braid that graduated him from Padawan to Knight. 

Obi-wan peeked an eye open to observe him. Anakin’s jaw was set firm, his arms crossed as he stared blankly at the stove, as if willing it to boil. He’d told him time and time again, in a half-joking manner, that a watched pot never boils, but a suspicious feeling passed through their bond that told him that perhaps tonight was not the best night to provoke him in any way, even if it was light-hearted and meant in good spirits. 

Continuing to observe him, Obi-wan opened his other eyes, staring at him openly now. He watched how Anakin seemed to sense that his eyes were on him, and how he didn’t seem to mind despite the rise in his heart rate and the slight worrying of his bottom lip. His cheeks, much more pale than they had been when he was initially taken from his home on Tatooine, were still quite tan, but now held a dusky blush along the high arches of his bones, and it clashed wildly with his impossibly blue eyes. Anakin, if Obi-wan had to compare, reminded him something of an oasis, a breath of fresh air, a drink of cool water, a single desert flower, rare, and dare he say, remarkably beautiful. He’d grown handsome, that much was certain. 

The whistle of the tea kettle broke the immersion, and Anakin moved quickly to stop the high-pitched sound from making too much of a racket. He poured two cups, one for each of them, and set the diffusers with honey inside before he brought them to the small glass table and set them down with a practiced ease and grace that Obi-wan could only wish carried over in his day-to-day activities. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Obi-wan asked, and he sat up as Anakin sat down across from him on a meditation pillow. 

“Is it so uncommon for us to share tea that you need to question my motives, Master?” Anakin shot back with a hint of a smile. 

“Sometimes, yes,” Obi-wan replied with a soft chuckle. Taking the cup in hand, he admired it for a brief moment. The cups had come as a set of four, with glowing blue geometrics on grey and white marble that Qui-Gon Jinn had given him many moons ago as a coming of age gift. Somehow, by the grace of the Force, Obi-wan had managed not to lose any of them due to Anakin’s clumsiness or recklessness. That in of itself was a blessing. 

“Well, I have no ulterior motives, Master,” Anakin assured him with a light smile of his own. “I’m simply glad to be back at the temple in my own bed for a night and wished to spend a bit of time with you.”

Obi-wan blinked, a bit taken about behind his cup as he blew some of the steam from his face, but his eyes crinkled in delight all the same. 

“Well, I’m not sure how entertaining and old man like myself is, but far be it from me to deny such a request.” He took a sip of tea, and he delighted in the way it hit his tongue, the perfect blend of sweet and flavorful. “This is-” 

“Your favorite, I know,” Anakin cut him off with a smile that was too proud of himself. “It’s a blend you can only find in the Mandalore system, so you don’t drink it often.” 

Obi-wan sat back against the cushions again, impressed that Anakin had retained such a trivial fact about him. 

“What’s the occasion, then?” He pondered. 

“No occasion,” Anakin insisted. “Consider it a thank you for allowing me to join you on the detail duty involving Senator Amidala tomorrow.” 

Ah, so there was something after all. Obi-wan knew that the boy had harbored a crush on her over a decade ago. He supposed that after all this time, he still tendered affection for her. It was dangerous to keep such an attachment, but Obi-wan found no harm in allowing him to discover that his feelings no longer existed on his own. After all, a Jedi could have nothing to keep them bound. Their life belonged not to one, but to all, and more specifically, to the Force. 

“There is no need to thank me, Anakin,” Obi-wan told him after allowing the taste of the Mandalore brew to settle on his tongue. “You are my Padawan, and my partner. Your involvement in this assignment is not only necessary, but welcomed.”

“Your words are too kind, Master,” Anakin continued to smile, but he looked more distracted than he previously had. His eyes were darker, more distant, as though he were remembering something or someone fondly. 

It made Obi-wan’s stomach churn. 

Surprised at his own sudden flash of negative emotion, Obi-wan cleared his throat and took a much larger gulp of his tea than necessary. The knee-jerk reaction caused his throat to burn, and he coughed roughly as he brought his free hand to his mouth. 

“Master?” Anakin was on his feet in seconds, but Obi-wan shooed him away. 

“I’m fine, Anakin,” he insisted. “I was simply a little overzealous with my tea, I suppose. 

Anakin’s face relaxed, and his smile returned to the here and now. 

“Aren’t you supposed to sip your tea, Master,” he chided, “not gulp it?”

Obi-wan narrowed his eyes. He so hated it when his Padawan used his own lessons against him somehow, though he guessed he should be thankful that Anakin listened to him at all. 

“Cute,” he replied dryly, and Anakin grinned as he sat back down, this time on the couch beside him. Although there was more than enough space for Anakin to have left room for at least two more people between them, but chose to sit flush up against his side, yet something else that Obi-wan had grown rather used to. Anakin liked to touch, to feel, and Obi-wan had on more than one occasion had to warn him about proper spatial awareness. Alone, however, in the comfort of their own shared quarters, Obi-wan didn’t mind. In fact, he would have been more offended if Anakin had sat away from him. It was simply something that he had come to expect from his Padawan. 

“I hope you don’t plan on wasting that tea,” Obi-wan motioned to his cup, which had previously been untouched. 

“Of course not,” he smirked. “You know I can’t drink piping hot tea, and apparently, neither should you.” 

“On the contrary, my dear Padawan, piping hot tea is the only way tea should be drank,” Obi-wan replied and lifted his teacup as though to offer him cheers before he took another, much slower sip this time. 

A perfect calmness settled in the room around them, and Obi-wan soon found that Anakin was drifting in and out of consciousness, if his bobbing head and faint snoring were any indication. For a long while, he allowed Anakin’s head to fall onto his shoulder as he finished his tea and moved onto Anakin’s unattended cup. The quiet was nice for a change, and Obi-wan took comfort in the gentle but no less there tug in their bond as it twined together for the first time in ages. 

By the time Obi-wan had finished Anakin’s cup, the time was well past that of which they should have both been asleep. Setting the cups together on the table with the intent for leaving them until the morning, he gently nudged Anakin’s shoulder to stir him. 

“Anakin,” he murmured softly with a gentle shake, and then again with a firmer one. Neither attempt showed any sign of him waking, and Obi-wan did not have the heart to wake him. He never had, which had consequently resulted in many a night spent in the same bed and waking with one another pressed close. Of course, those instances became less and less frequent the older Anakin got, but on the rare occurrence that it did happen, Obi-wan let him sleep just as they had when he was still considered a youngling. 

Sighing, Obi-wan weighed his options. He could either sleep on the ouch under the weight of his Padawan, or he could carefully shift him and carry him to his own bed, where he would likely much rather prefer. Though neither option was ideal to him, Obi-wan reasoned that sleeping in his own bed would benefit him as well. 

With the utmost of care, Obi-wan maneuvered himself in such a way that allowed him to wriggle his arms under Anakin’s knees and brace him against his chest. Anakin slumped into him, but hummed as he unconsciously nuzzled into the side of Obi-wan’s neck with a small smile. 

‘Definitely cute,’ Obi-wan thought to himself as he carried his Padawan to bed, still mostly clothed, but pants and a loose tunic were certainly more comfortable for sleeping than the full garb of Jedi robes. Skillfully, he opened the door to Anakin’s room and laid him gently on his bed. It reminded Obi-wan of the times he’d done this with him as a child, and a fond gleam settled in his eyes. This would be over one day. One day, Anakin wouldn’t need him anymore, and those days were growing closer and closer with each rise and fall of the sun. It was admittedly a little painful to think about, but Obi-wan knew that Anakin would be alright. If he wasn't, he’d be right here for him. 

Emotion clouded Obi-wan’s eyes, and he shook his head of them. Sleep and meditation was definitely needed before tomorrow’s mission. 

He attempted to stand, but Anakin’s hands had clutched the back of his sleep tunic, keeping him firmly in place over him. A lightly flustered sound escaped Obi-wan’s lips as he tried to pry himself away, but Anakin was relentless even in his sleep. 

“Anakin, I have to go to bed,” Obi-wan insisted as gently as he could. 

“Stay,” Anakin replied, his eyes cracked open, but still heavily dazed with sleep. 

A frown formed on Obi-wan’s lips then, and he sighed as he brushed his fingers through the short, soft hair on his head. 

“Not tonight, dear one,” he told him patiently. “We’ve a mission tomorrow.” 

Anakin didn’t reveal whether that was a suitable response or not, but he loosened his grip on Obi-wan nonetheless and rolled over, putting his back to him in a seemingly unconscious tantrum. Obi-wan shook his head, but took the chance to lean further down and kiss his temple. As quickly as he had placed his lips on him, the wave of tension tightened in his chest, and he forced himself to keep from disturbing him. 

Quickly, he removed himself from Anakin’s room and shut the door as quietly as possible before he ran into his own room further down the same hallway. With the door shut, he coughed as harshly as he had before, but this time, there was a significant difference. For one, there were speckles of fresh blood decorating the inside of his hand, but that wasn’t the most horrific part. 

In the dead center of his palm was a single flower petal. It was small, white where the blood hadn’t touched it, and surrounded with dark pink edges. It was a strange flower that he was sure he’d seen before, but he never did pay too close attention to such things. 

Coughing up flowers, though, that was something worth looking into. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you've read, please consider donating to [my ko-fi!](https://www.ko-fi.com/thatkanragirl)


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